Friday, April 15, 2011

Filla is a nymph used to the raucous ways of a Dionysian festival and allows a handsome newcomer, Marsyas, to strip her down for a passionate interlude while tied to a tree. After time spent alone, she knows little about him beyond the physical. However, her feelings for him are growing until he brings her back for the next festival, and suddenly she's not sure of anything.

Love is found in the most unlikely places, but will it last?

Excerpt

Ecstatic madness swirled around the clearing as Dionysus, god of wine and theater, skipped and danced through revelers with his mighty thyrsus in hand. Honey rained from the fennel stick and pine cone top onto random attendees, encouraging their passions to the surface, and ultimately to mate with whomever or whatever was closest. He whipped them further into a frenzied mindset and pushed them deeper into satisfying their lust for flesh. There were only two ways the frantic celebrants could shake loose the need infiltrating their minds and bodies, either through sex or violence.

Filla was a nymph, devotee of the god’s. Thankfully she’d never experienced the desire to tear another living being apart. She hadn’t been a follower for as many years as some, she wasn’t that old, but had been around long enough to discover a few of the secrets surrounding Dionysus and how he was worshipped. The disciples who were comfortable focusing on the wine and theater aspects saw little else, not the bad side of their favored divinity, and not his strong links to both life and death. Powerful and well supported, he was an immortal that shouldn’t ever be crossed.

As far as she was concerned devotion to the patron deity of agriculture and all the good he freely offered the community she chose to live within didn’t mean she had to compromise the standards she chose to live by. To both celebrate the final step in bringing the collective wine to fruition and to make it through an event in one piece, mentally and physically, would only be accomplished if she kept her distance from the people she knew to be unstable. The negative aspects of honoring the god weren’t enough to deny the sexual cravings that held her captive when it was festival time. Previous encounters had been gratifying, even fulfilling, but she’d had a taste of something better. Someone that made her happy and dreams appear possible, and he was at her side.

Marsyas.

They walked through the clearing, past a group of wild maenads eager for the sacrifice to start. She had her arm around his sleek warm waist and smiled feeling his around her shoulders, holding her close. They’d physically connected at the previous event and hadn’t spent a moment apart since. A Dionysian festival was not the place to find love, but their time since, spent at his place overlooking the sea had been filled with her feelings for him growing deeper, more complex. She wouldn’t label them love, there were too many unknowns to be discovered, too many questions to be answered, barriers in both of them to be knocked down, although her heart remained open for him to fill.

She’d always considered herself an adventurous woman when it came to embracing what life offered, but he’d shown her how much she’d been missing by giving her mind, body and soul over to the devotion of another. The past few months had been enlightening and full of pleasure, and she hadn’t wanted it to end. Happiness had wiped all thought of attending the big spring festival from her mind. She’d been caught off guard when he mentioned bringing her back to the temple in time for the celebration. The move left her with questions, doubts really.

Had he lost interest in her? In them and where they might have been headed? The attentive care he continued to treat her with didn’t support the concern, but sometimes actions hid the truth. Filla knew she should ask him what was going on, but they were headed toward their special place, at least she thought it was special, and didn’t want to break the mood.

A startlingly loud yell broke into her thoughts and she looked around to see where the sound had come from. There were plenty of people shouting their fun, groaning their pleasure, but the cry had sounded like one of terror, and then she found the source.

Not too far from the tree where they’d culminated their relationship was a man stretched across a long stone who held his ass cheeks open for a centaur who stood between his legs. While she watched, he was slowly fed a long thin cock, and the yell turned into a moan. The man appeared to be enthralled by the others possession of his backside and she felt her body react to that discovery.

“You’re remembering when I first took your delicate sweet ass, aren’t you honey.”

A persistent obsession with a goddess could jeopardize one man's sanity, or could give him eternal love.

An Ancient Civilizations Professor has hungered for one woman for over twenty years. The only problem--she
hasn't existed in millenia. When he is swept from modern times to the birth of the Roman Empire, he thinks his
sanity has finally snapped.

All he wants is to have one chance to love her.

If he can win the heart of the Goddess of War, he might find more than any obsession could ever promise.

Curran’s head ached and his mouth was dry. His room smelled dry and stuffy. He needed to air out his condo again. Rolling over, he tossed an arm upward to capture his free range pillow. Thunder filled the morning. Great. It was Saturday, maybe he’d just stay in bed.

Only…that wasn’t his pillow under his hand. Heavy wool scratched his back and hips as he shifted to find a comfortable position. When had his mattress ever felt so flat? Flexing his fingers, he stroked something hard…hard and stone. Stone?

Blinking, he jerked up on stiff arms and froze.

Shit! We’re not in Kansas anymore. Focusing, he examined his space. Stone walls soared all around him. Flat masonry with dedicated religious carvings, and a single slit window well overhead. He was in some kind of sleeping quarters. Listening, that wasn’t thunder either, but the sound of marching. Thousands marching.

Swallowing with uncertainty, he sat on the edge of his bed, a single layer ticked cot. He was naked. He shook himself. His mind was only playing with him again. Though, like Bellona speaking the night before, this was far more real, well beyond anything he’d dreamed up over the years. “Easy,” he whispered cautiously.

Only… Fuck!

He wasn’t speaking in English anymore!

Lifting his hands, he scrubbed his face. Callouses surprised him. Shudders rocked his shoulders. Faint sounds reached him through the plank wood door. Apparently the only way in or out of his…space? Cell? God if he knew. He knew in a few minutes it would disappear, or he’d wake up, in his own room. He had to. None of this was real. It never had been. Now was no different.

He believed that for about another fifteen seconds.

Standing he stretched and felt his heart pound again. Now this was too much! That was not his cock! Hell, this isn’t my body! Long and lean at thirty-three, the frame of his body now was anything but the tell-tale make-up of a bland college professor. Holding out his hands and arms, ropes of muscle climbed his arms to broad shoulders. A thick chest and lean waist was held up by muscular thighs, and dark, fine hair coated his skin, from his pecs to his navel.

Trembling, he sank to the edge of the bed where he’d awakened.

Dark hair?But I’m a blonde! Curran whimpered helplessly inside. Closing his eyes, he breathed at a measured pace for several minutes, surprised and grateful when his lungs and chest eased and the fear clenching his heart died away.

Looking over his shoulder, he spotted a wooden table with a wash basin and pottery pitcher. Striding over, he poured clear water into the bowl then splashed his face. A few drops hit his chest and he flicked them off, shaking his hands after dousing himself. Bracing his hands on the wooden edge, he counted. Yet when he opened his eyes, the room was exactly as he’d seen when he’d first awakened. Definitely not home.

“You are so screwed,” he muttered. In Latin. His brain wanted to curl up in a corner and quiver. He clearly remembered dragging his sorry ass to bed last night after his meltdown. Clean sheets and a queen bed. What was he missing? Sweeping the interior space there were no answers, but one definite. This was not his room.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Once every ten years Orion is let down from the heavens to explore the mortal world below. On his last sojourn he encountered a woman unlike any he has ever known. Despite their passion and growing emotional connection he had to let her go. Now the time has come for another trip to the mortal plane and this time he wants to be with his woman, the gods be damned.

The question is after ten years and an abrupt good-bye will she still want him?

Excerpt:Coffee. I need coffee. Starla shuffled into the kitchen and looked around the shiny silver countertops for anything to combat her caffeine craving.

“You know you're late?” Her roommate and best friend, Tillie said as she brushed past her, mug filled with hot chocolate in hand.

“Yeah, yeah, Ba'al can bite me.” Starla paused. “Don't tell him I said that. He actually might do it.”

Tillie laughed long and loud. “The coffee is ready. You know one day I'm going to catch you cuddling up to Mr. Coffee and I have to ask, what would your dream man think of that?”

Starla groaned. “Don't remind me, please. Those dreams started again. I haven't had a good night's sleep in a week and a half and it shows. Ba'al thinks I've turned into a klutz. I'm scared he might actually fire me.”

Tillie snorted. “Doubt it. If you just explain-”

Starla held up a hand as she picked up the coffee pot. “No, no, no. Then he'll think I've over imbibed on Morpheus' Special punch.”

“Star-”

Starla shook her head and poured herself a mug of coffee. “I'll deal. It will go away like it does every year.”

“Yeah, but you're not hearing what I do at night. You actually screamed. I was jealous. All I get are dreams about lost socks. You have a full blown dreamgasm. I think we should switch.” Tillie chuckled and took a sip of hot chocolate.

“You have a boyfriend so stop complaining. How the hell do you drink that stuff? I had one sip and damn near blew out my esophagus.”

Tillie chuckled. “You just haven't got a taste for it. Besides I could say the same thing for you. All that caffeine.” She shuddered.

“Seriously if I get an invite to your wedding and find out you're marrying Mr. Coffee and I'm going to commit you.”

“You're just jealous that I have a great relationship with the coffee maker and you don't. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to grab my crap and get going before Ba'al, sets the hounds of hell on my cute ass.”

“Don't stop by Starbucks, they've just released a new flavored mocha.”

“Thanks for the tip. Later.” Starla downed the rest of her coffee, grabbed her coat and purse and headed out the door. As she drove to The Cave, her thoughts turned to her dreams. Her grip on the wheel of her Toyota Prius tightened as she tried to suppress the shiver of arousal that traced its way down her spine. Her nerve endings came alive as her pussy clenched. She wanted to squeeze her thighs together to stave off the hunger that burned in the pit of her stomach. A fog of desire wove patterns throughout her mind reminding her of his hands, his lips, his body pressed against hers, the feel of his cock as it pressed against her dripping entrance before he sunk into her wet heat.

Starla groaned and shook her head. “Snap out of it. You're driving moron.”

She slowed the car and came to a full stop at a red light before reaching over and blasting some music. Much to her annoyance Enter the Sandman began to blare from the speakers. She quickly shut off the radio and resumed driving, with a stop at Starbucks, of course. Coffee cup in hand she strolled into the private adult club, The Cave, owned and operated by the god Ba'al, who judging by the way he was barking out orders was not in a good mood. Starla was about to creep by him and pretend that she had just come in from running errands when he growled out her name. “Starla.”

She didn't bother trying to tip toe past him. Coffee cup in hand she strode up to him, heels clicking on the flagstone floor. She came to a stop next him and waited for the verbal reaming that she expected. Instead, he surprised her.

His voice was a soft, rough whisper when he spoke to her, “Next time you're going to be late, call. Damn near had a heart attack when I walked into the club area to find twenty sets of buck antlers. I have no clue what the hell Bacchus, wants with them and don't want to ask so you'll have to deal with him on this. Damn Bacchanal is going to kill me. Addison's, already pissed I'm not home much.”

He shook his head. “But that's beside the point. We have a new bartender. I need you to show him around. I can't deal with him at the moment. His name is Orion Anso.”

Her heart skipped before it started to beat at regular pace. She shook her head. It couldn't be. He's not… She whirled around, looking everywhere for him. “Where is he?”

“By the bar. What the fuck, no, no, no that St. Andrew's cross doesn't go there. Jesus, what the hell are you doing?” Ba'al marched off to deal with some of the decorators.

Starla scanned the bar area and spotted him. His back was to her. Long platinum blond hair streaked with strands so bright they looked white fell over his shoulders. Wide shoulders were covered in a worn black leather motorcycle jacket that fell at the waist. Dark rinse denim cupped and molded around his muscular ass and athletic thighs. She saw a hint of the black heels of boots but that was about it. As if sensing her scrutiny, he turned around. She forgot how to breathe. Everything stopped around her as the world melted away. Her grip loosened on the coffee cup. It fell to the floor forming one big puddle.

Orion. Dear God, it is him.

Blue-grey eyes bore into her with an intensity that heated her right to her soul. His square jaw and sharp cheekbones dusted with pale blond hair. His sensual mouth quirked into a smile. She licked her suddenly dry lips and tried to re-learn how to breathe. Her breath came out in soft puffs as her body heated and tightened. Her pussy tingled with awareness. A sob came out that she couldn't take back. Goddess he hadn't changed, not one bit. Her gaze caressed his thick white-blond eyebrows. His long, pale lashes made his eyes seem brighter. She remembered past times when she would trace a finger down his nose, giggle when her finger ran over the bump.

He'd told her that his brother had broken it on a hunting trip where he'd bagged a stag. She swallowed. Can't be him, can't be the same man. He'd disappeared, left me. The beginning of tears formed in her eyes as she remained rooted to the spot staring at him. The man she'd loved in the bloom of her youth gazed back at her, a smile on his lips, his arms open and welcoming. Before she could stop herself she went to him, needing to feel his warmth around her once more, wanting to make sure he was indeed real.

She threw her arms around him and inhaled the soft, sensual scent of leather, underneath that was the same musky male scent that she sometimes smelled in the air for the briefest second before it disappeared. For a moment she just melted into him and allowed old memories to run through her. Those two weeks they made love, laughed, cuddled and held each other. Tears blurred her vision and she buried her head deeper into his shoulder. White hot anger bubbled up dowsing the moment with bitterness.

Starla stepped out of his arms, wiped away the tears before she curled her right hand into a fist and punched him square in the jaw. Before anyone could say or do anything she ran to one of the club's theme rooms and slammed the door behind her.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Cyclopes are giants, mean and set in their ways. Agres, Steropes and Brontes are no exception. They have existed forever and see no reason to change. They're comfortable working with the immortals and keeping the pesky mortals at a distance through fear. One night, they meet the stunning Cyra and everything as they know it has been altered. They flounder for solid footing and eventually find level ground where the brothers are content having a lover in their lives. All is going well until they discover their lover is going to leave them for the deity of agriculture she is devoted to serving. Working through the rare feelings of fear, they finally grasp what they never thought would happen to them, actually happened. They are in love, deeply and wholeheartedly, with Cyra. Desperate not to lose her, the normally self-assured trio bands together and are ready to fight for her love.

Having spent most of her life dedicated to a god in grateful servitude, Cyra is surprised when love blooms in her heart for another. Not just for one man, but three brothers, an unheard of scenario even on the sexually permissive Mount Olympus. They were Cyclopes, one of the most feared beings to exist, except they were perfect, handsome, one eyed men who were gentle giants when with her. The love she felt for them grew until she thought her heart would explode and while their bodies told her they cared, the brothers never said a word about how they felt for her. The spring festival brought the point in time when she had to choose between the men who held her heart and the one she served. While it wasn’t going to be easy, all that was left for her to do was decide in which direction was best for her to go.

So, can a one eyed giant be a sexy and caring lover? Absolutely! Can three? Phrew, it's a red hot yes! Pick up a copy of "Cyra's Cyclopes" and enjoy the trio finding their way through new territory.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Join the authors of Tease Publishing once again as they take you on a erotic journey into the lives of some naughty and sexy gods. Five stories. Five gods. Five wicked ways to fall in love with stories by Cara North, Cat Johnson, Dagmar Avery, Selena Illyria and Katrina Strauss. To love is still divine.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Save the date! October 23-25, 2009 - The Authors After Dark Paranormal Weekend is filling up fast! Sign up by August 1st to get the lowest membership rate of $160 for the weekend. (After August 1st, the membership goes to $175.)

The event is being held at the Suffern, NY Holiday Inn, located conveniently about 1 hour from New York City and most of the area’s major airports. Guest include:

Jacquelyn Frank

Sunny

Joey W. Hill

Stella and Audra Price

Bianca D'Arc

Rosemary Laurey

Jennifer Armintrout

Madeline Oh

Georgia Evans

Mechele Armstrong

Samantha Sommersby

Cat Johnson

Cathy Clamp

Eliza Gayle

Diana Castilleja

Leigh Ellwood

Tilly Greene

Selena Illyria

Adra Steia

Stephanie Julian

Judi Fennell

Kayleigh Jamison

Donna Grant

Robin T. Popp

Linda Mooney

Mima

Area attractions include the phenomenal shopping at Woodbury Common (http://www.premiumoutlets.com/outlets/outlet.asp?id=7) and the Forest of Fear (http://www.theforestoffear.com/home.php), held on the site of the New York State Renaissance Faire at Sterling Forest.

The convention is limited to 200 attendees so your “face time” with your favorite authors is maximized. We’re having loads of panel discussions, parties and a fantabulous dealer’s room. We’ll also be holding a massive charity raffle to benefit the CAN and Pets Alive – a local no kill animal shelter.

Sign up now for the best rates! The conference registration is only $160 until August 1st ($175 after August 1st) and the hotel is $99 per night, double occupancy. Lots to do in the area will make this a weekend you will never forget!

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

The very wine that brings Dionysus his true love, also takes her from him. Will he interfere in the affairs of mortals to get Ariadne back, or will Theseus, his rival for her affections, betray the woman who saved him? Sometimes love is a labyrinth all its own.